Pinned toot

I'm not really sure how to promote myself. If you've enjoyed my work, and have ever felt the urge to throw some coin at me, I now have a Patreon.

I reveal the filename of the individual story and sometimes have additional notes/thoughts about them too. It's all completely free there, if you wish to check it out. I haven't thought of anything to actually place behind a subscription.

Here's the link, thanks for your time and interest!

There were princesses that danced, princesses that wove, more than plenty that wielded weapons of all sorts. And of course, every princess had magic - how this came to be no one was entirely sure.

But Princess Dania fished. Net, hook, spear; she learned every method possible.

Her appetite for seafood spurred her on; she couldn't imagine simply wasting a fish for a trophy.

So prolific was her passion she would often feed her whole kingdom.

I'm the one dentist in five who disagrees. My thick carapace is festooned with the broken harpoons of those who came before you, trying to change my mind about chewing gum. Try your luck, oh fool, and I'll bury you in Poseidon's flower bed.

Imagine that there's a popular brand of cherry bubblegum. There's nothing harmful in the formula, it's a perfectly normal candy treat, the company behaves ethically.
For some reason, you run the numbers, and this brand of gum very strongly correlates with suicide and self-harm.
There's no explanation why - the gum is not addictive or psychoactive, there's nothing in the advertising or marketing that would incite people to hurt themselves... nevertheless, the stats are clear.
What do you do?

"Oh restless spirit, what binds you to this place," the priest asked.

The spirit lifted its head, its other hand full of books, "Not done reading them all."

Near the door, a secretly guilty king let out a relieved sigh. The queen elbowed him in the ribs.

"Er, can we convince you to ascend?" the king asked.

"Can't hear you, busy reading," the former king growled.

"But those books are forbidden!"

"To the living, yes. Thank you, brother."

I stared at the sheet I had been handed, "W-what? No wings or halo? But..."

"Nah, you got too much unfinished business..."

"But I did everything right!"

The specter before me... grinned, "You sure?"

"Yes," my voice shrill with emotion.

"Wings and a halo ain't even close..."

"What is?"

"Light, mostly, and no mind to speak of."

I gaped, horrified.

"Yeah I prefer this, chains n' all."

Then I was alone to work out what to do next.

"May I be turned, and join your pack, please?"

The werewolves looked to their den-mother, who was already considering the request.

"Why?" she asked, brushing her gray whiskers, "You are already more powerful than any one of us."

"I'm... lonely. And," the dragon shuffled his feet bashfully, "...also, I want to be fluffy."

"I'm not sure if you can be turned, but you are welcome to be part of our family even if you're not exactly like us."

It was a cold night, and I shouldn't have been out, but sometimes you just need to take a misty walk along a river that seems to absorb all moon and starlight.

I was startled to see the woman half submerged in the dark waters, her only companion an old kerosene lamp. To my continued surprise, she struck up a conversation.

I was flattered she listened so intently... and that she didn't try to drown and eat me.

Most mermaids would've.

When he was a kitten we named him Grace, because that's what cats have; once he grew out of his kittenish rolls and tumbles, he'd fit his name.

Instead we ended up with a cat that not only constantly tripped over his own feet; he could be standing still and stumble.

The vet couldn't find anything wrong.

And then we all went on a space-cation.

Grace twirled through the air the moment gravity was off. He was undeniably a space-cat.

To many, the Princess was generous to all, a successful peace broker between the neighboring realms, and a brilliant inventor.

To some, she was problematic.

After searching far and wide, they found an assassin beyond compare, deadlier than she was lovely... and she was quite lovely.

"Befriend her, then make it look like an accident."

Publicly, they were fast friends - the plan was working!

Then the wedding happened.

She sent a refund.

Six unicorns was all it would take.

So far, I'd only found one and I wasn't even sure if it qualified.

"What if we divided it into enough parts to go onto each rune?" my familiar suggested, ruffling her feathers.

"No, the unicorns need to be alive."

"It could be 'alive', with the right spell..."

"But that would require even rarer spell components!" I huffed.

"Do I get a say?" asked the unicorn.

"You know you don't," we answered.

Yes, I do occasionally do commissions that aren’t porn. This is Gwent, Sorcyress’ D&D character. She dyes fabric!

What began as a knot in my wall, then an eye, before finally emerging as a whole face became an unlikely friend in these isolated times.

"I like the Zoom machine," they told me one day.

"I wish I did," I grumped, feeding them a corn chip.

"Mmph, but it is amazing! You can speak to people everywhere!"

"I don't know people in... everywhere, to talk to."

"But you could."

"I could..."

"Maybe it could be used to find the rest of me?"

AKA: Read the Warning Labels and don't assume you're exempt, I guess?

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She stole seashells by the seashore.

There were signs warning against such actions.

Perhaps the warnings would have been more effective if the innumerable consequences had also been listed.

She sold them, which carried a different penalty.

The consequences occurred, mild at first; a coin lost down the drain, food spoiling too quick...

She was last seen bolting to the sea pursued by red scorpions.

New shells appeared the next day.

I'd expected my mirror-universe self to be... sexier maybe; crueler certainly. Who I found was a soft man surrounded by many dogs beside a van offering pet-care services.

"Am I the evil, sexy one," I asked myself.

"Most media would say so, with that facial hair and abs even a loose shirt can't hide," I responded.

I grimaced, absentmindedly petting the beagle that approached me, "Oh."

"Hey, wanna help me groom these doggos?"

"Oh God, yes."

"Oh, don't mind him, "the princess assured, "He doesn't like strangers. Once you've been here a few weeks, he'll warm up to you and demand all the ear-scritches."

"Weeks," the knight sputtered, staring up at the dragon, glaring around the corner at him, "Why would I stay?"

The princess paused, fluttering her eyelashes, delicate hand somehow hefting the large sword she'd been sharpening, "You... wish to depart?"

The knight gulped, "N-no."

The Queen of Sleep woke up with a soft 'prrt?'. Her subjects were staring at her with appropriate devotion.

"What is it?" she yawned, stretching all her limbs at once.

"There's an unattended sunbeam in The Hallway."

The queen snapped to attention, whiskers bristling, "Well! That simply won't do!"

She hurried over to the Grand Doorway, tail held high, stepping through with grace.

Thus the sunbeam was thoroughly slept upon.

"Someone smells happy!"

"That's a weird thing to say," I said without thinking. I'd never had a werewolf coworker before... and it was a lot to get used to.

"But it's true!" He was shirtless again. I sincerely doubted it was a real side-effect of lycanthropy, but I wasn't complaining.

"So, who is it?"

He paused and sniffed himself, "Oh! It's me! I'm happy to see you, my favorite coworker!"

I groaned but hid a grin in my coffee mug.

"I think I ought to traverse the stars; see as much as I can, meet new, exciting people!"

My toaster hummed then asked, "What's the name of the tenant in 43?"

"I... don't know?"

"What about your neighbors in 41, 40 and 38?"

"Um. Well, whoever lives in 38 is called Beck; I accidentally got their mail once."

"Have you met them?"

"No," I admitted.

"Plenty of new people right here on Mars."

"What if they're boring?"

"What if they're not?"

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